Drifting
by Heath07
Summary: SLASH A post-finale fic. Complete.
1. 1

Title: Drifting (1/6)

Rating: PG-13 -slash, swearing

Author: Heath07

Summary: A post-finale fic. Slash.

Disclaimer: Everything is owned by FOX and Josh.

Feedback: Yes, please.

Notes: Just a post-finale fic.

* * *

___The salt water burned his eyes and throat as he choked and struggled to remain buoyant. Drowning hadn't been on his agenda today, but it was better than having to sit across from the only person he'd ever wanted acceptance from while he stared back with hate in his eyes. Why hadn't he been wearing his life jacket? At least then he wouldn't have had to work so hard to keep his head above water._

_"Give me your hand," Ryan demanded._

_Seth shook his head, water dripping into his eyes but he refused to blink them away. "I'd rather get eaten by a big fat shark and then have my bones gnawed on by seagulls."_

_"Stop being so fucking stubborn and take my damn hand. You're going to drown."_

_Seth continued to tread water, ignoring Ryan's concerned gaze. "You'd like that wouldn't you?"_

_Ryan sighed, shoving his hand at Seth. "No, now give me your hand."_

_"Are you sure you want to touch me? you might catch queer."_

_"Seth."_

_"Ryan," he mocked, taking in more water and sputtering like one of those giant fountains the Greek family down the block had on their lawn. Tacky little thing, that was. _

_Ryan sat back, something like amusement dancing in his eyes. "How much longer do you think you're going to last? Aren't you getting tired?"_

_"I feel fine. In fact, I think I could swim back to Newport and back and not break a sweat." Clearly, that was a lie. It was killing him just to stay afloat, but he wasn't going to give Ryan the satisfaction of knowing that. Dropping out of swim class when he was five because everyone kept calling him Super Speedo Seth was coming back to haunt him. It wasn't his fault his mother had made him wear a damn red Speedo...running around and flexing his non-muscles like he was tough shit? that was all him. What was so bad about that nickname anyway? Compared to some of the things he'd been called since then, it was rather endearing. _

_"Uh-huh. Well, what about your hand?"_

_"What about it? It doesn't hurt." Seth flexed it to prove a point. Little droplets of blood formed, dropped into the water and dissolved into the ocean. _

_"You're bleeding. There's probably ten, maybe twenty, of those sharks being drawn this way by the scent of your blood." His lips curved just slightly, enough to look smug._

_"It's barely a scratch." Okay, so maybe Ryan had a point there. How good were sharks' sense of smell anyway?_

_"Is there anything you want me to tell your mom or dad when I bring them back your skeleton?" He was full-on teasing now._

_"Funny. You're a regular comedian, you know that?" _

_And then when Seth didn't think it could get any worse, Ryan started fucking humming the Jaws theme song. He was one sick bastard when he wanted to be. Still, it was working and he knew it. Damn._

_Seth swallowed his pride along with a mouthful of seawater. "The water is starting to get a little chilly and I have started to develop this incredible pain in my right calf..."_

_"Come on," Ryan urged, holding out his hand once again._

_Seth hesitated. "I'm only taking your help because I'm delicate and I don't respond well to pain, not because I want to."_

_"Fair enough."_

___Ryan used all of upper body strength to pull Seth out of the water. He strained and grunted and Seth tried not to notice the way his muscles bulged with every tug. The veins in his neck pulsed with blood and it looked like little bugs crawling inside. It was distracting and that's what Seth needed._

_Finally secure on the canvas on the boat they both laid back, panting hard._

* * *

Nine hours on a boat, enduring choppy waves and sweltering heat, should have been enough time to decide it was a stupid idea not to bring any food or water on a trip that was dependant on the navigation of a cheap plastic compass, right? But who had time for food and water when fleeing one's life and certain realizations that just wouldn't go back to being buried? The first few minutes had been easy. He hadn't been worried about anything because the adrenaline pumping through his system had numbed his reasoning skills. But by the tenth hour any adrenaline Seth had left was being used to steer the Summer breeze toward the very inviting-looking stretch of shore he saw up ahead.

So he didn't make it to Tahiti. So what? it wasn't like he expected to get there in the first place.

Instead, he'd steered the boat miles down the coast. When the sting of the sun and the scratch of his dry throat became too much to bear, he let the wind drift him along because his arms were too tired and his hands were too blistered for him to give a damn anymore. He was miserable and looked it. At least no one was there to see him pout.

He wondered if his Mom had gotten the note yet. If Summer had read hers or threw it away like he had, inevitably, done to their relationship. He knew it was a mistake to leave, but he couldn't bare to be in the house without Ryan. And all he could see when he closed his eyes were Ryan's tears and a damn map of Tahiti Ryan had kept even though Ryan wasn't one to get sentimental. Seth knew it meant something. Something big. And he couldn't quite pin down what it meant when Ryan handed it back. Was it Ryan's way of saying that they couldn't be friends anymore? Was he giving Seth back his non-life? Thanks, but no thanks? Seth was sick of thinking about it and he'd gotten sick, literally, ten minutes after Ryan had been gone and Seth realized, panicked, that he couldn't take anything back. That, his selfish, only child, severely emotionally-inept attitude had reared its ugly head and that nothing could make that moment disappear; that Ryan would always remember that as their good-bye.

Seth wasn't prepared for the clouds that took over the sky and the rain that beat down against him. California rarely had storms, or rain for that matter, but it looked like Armageddon had swept in and called Seth out. Thunder roared in the distance and lightning danced along the water. Seth sucked in a breath, grabbed a rope and held on for dear life as waves licked his skin and the current pushed him along the bowels of the ocean.

It was long after the rain had started and the storm had died down that Seth finally used the last of his reserves to make it to shore. After pulling the boat onto the sand, Seth was drained and apart from the wetness, the sand looked soft and inviting. He hadn't intended to drop right there, but his eyes felt so heavy and his legs wouldn't cooperate, it was like he was on that medication the dentist had given him after he'd gotten his wisdom teeth pulled, and nothing seemed as urgent as the lure of sleep. Not the need for sustenance Not the need for shelter or dry clothes. Just sleep.


	2. 2

Iceworm- It might take me a while to get there but I will. ;)

* * *

Tyler poked the body with the bottom of his fishing pole and waited. The morning was cool for summer and the sun was just starting to really come into bloom. He took a step closer, set the bucket of fish he'd caught that morning on the sand and crouched down. The wind ruffled his hair and tickled his cheek. He bent over, his hand reaching out inches from the body and then he let it hover in mid-air. The figure appeared dead or heavily sedated, and he didn't know which was worse. Dead people didn't wake up swinging, so that was a plus, he could deal with that. Drugged up frat boys were a different story. Not that the figure really struck him as the frat type, but he'd seen it all before, some rich preppy thinking he could use the beach as his personal lair to avoid the 'rents while he slept off a hangover.

The stranger was on his stomach, curly dark hair matted to the side of his face, long arms at awkward angles, knees digging into the ground like he'd just collapsed and hadn't been able to get up. Tyler frowned. Definitely not one of the local boys or one of the summer snobs that inhabited the cottages on the hills and drove expensive cars, throwing their Daddy's money around like confetti. The boy was skinny, like a girl skinny, and his bones jutted out at sharp points. The sea birds cawed overhead like vultures waiting to pick his skeleton clean.

Tyler's concern grew when he let his hand jut out and touch the body, giving it a little shake, and nothing happened. By his crumpled clothing and the pallor of his skin, Tyler estimated that he'd been there the whole night. Tyler's fingers hesitated before he moved the unruly hair off of the strange boy's face, the skin was warm and as he moved his hand forward he felt hot breath on his fingertips. Tyler's heart thudded in his chest with relief.

"Hey," he said tapping the side of what he now recognized as a teen's face.

"Fivemoreminutes," the boy grumbled and then jerked up, inhaling sand and breaking out into a choking fit.

Tyler clapped him on the back, laughing. "Ah, so you're alive then?"

"Barely," the boy muttered, straightening out and turning over onto his back, his elbows digging into the damp sand around him. "What time is it?"

Tyler didn't even bother to check his watch, he replied automatically, "just after seven."

He squinted. "A.M.?"

"Yeah."

"Oh," he said, still puzzled. "Wait, sorry, who are you? And where am I?"

Tyler got to his feet, ignoring him. The sun was full now and the air was getting warmer. It felt good.

Tyler licked the sweat from his upper lip. "Your rudder is bent."

"Excuse me?" Seth asked, picking grits of sand from his tongue.

"The rudder, it's bent. That your boat?" He pointed with the skinny side of his fishing rod toward the Summer Breeze.

"Yeah." Seth spat into the sand and kept spitting until he appeared to have no spit left.

Tyler inspected the craft. "She's a little banged up; did you get caught up in that storm last night?"

Seth shook the sand from his hair. "Yeah, couldn't bring her in until early this morning; I kept her floating in the cove, hoping the wind wouldn't blow me right into the rocks. I'm not a fan of getting crushed."

Tyler smirked. "You got lucky then, there's not much damage. I can fix it if ya want."

Seth got his first good look at the Summer Breeze. It didn't look too bad. "I can probably manage most of it myself. I'm crafty that way."

"All right, if you're sure. I work at the marina," Tyler said, gesturing further down the beach, "if you do find you need some help, the name's Tyler. Just ask for me at the desk if I'm not around." The sand was still a little damp and so were the boy's clothes. He thought of offering him the extra pair of jeans he kept in his locker, but he outweighed the kid by a good twenty-five pounds so there wasn't much point.

Seth got to his feet, shielding the sun with his hand. "Yeah, thanks."

Tyler nodded, picket up the fish bucket and started down the beach.

"Hey!"

Tyler turned.

"My name's Seth by the way," Seth said standing on the balls of his feet, his neck craned, making him look like an ostrich.

Tyler smiled and winked. "See ya around, Seth."

* * *

After a good stretch, Seth spent the day getting supplies. The first thing he did was buy a gallon of water and drink until his mouth felt frozen and his stomach sloshed when he walked. He stopped at a seaside restaurant and ate greasy bacon and burnt toast while an old woman fed breakfast sausage to her small dog and watched him from the corner of her eye. He left the waitress a twenty-five percent tip, even though she'd forgotten to bring him the coffee he'd ordered and the food was terrible.

He found a store and bought new clothes. Most of his stuff was still drenched and he didn't feel like spending another minute with soggy underwear than was necessary, or even more upsetting, he was starting to get a rash from his wet jeans and there was nothing more unpleasant than that.

He'd slipped on a loose pair of khakis and a blue polo and instantly felt better.

The rest of the day he spent looking for a room, looking for somewhere to crash. He found a somewhat respectable, cheap hotel but there were no vacancies. The woman at the desk had told him that if he still needed a room, tomorrow he could come back and there would be some available then. Seth said that he would and laid down a ten dollar bill to secure it.

On the boat, he'd spent most of his time trying to avoid thinking about why he'd done it, why he'd left, but now...now that was all he could think about.

Seth unwrapped half the sandwich he'd picked up at a Deli and set the other half on the canvas body of the boat. He kicked off his shoes and leaned against the mast. Taking a bite, he chewed slowly.

It had been nearly ten months. Ten months since Ryan came to live in the pool house; ten months of having a friend, someone to talk to, someone to laugh with, someone to scowl at him. Ten months of pushing thoughts out of his head and pretending the feeling in his gut wasn't really there; of chocking up Ryan's occasional prolonged glances to his imagination, shared touches to accidents. He thought it would go away, thought it wasn't really what it was until Ryan walked out the door and the ache took over his body, his heart. He wanted to laugh, laugh like he had about Luke's Big Gay Dad, but he couldn't because it wasn't funny anymore. And every time Luke had pushed him against the lockers and whispered fag in his ear or peed in his shoes while he and the rest of the water polo team chanted queer in his direction, he had been right. He just hadn't known it until Theresa drove away, taking what Seth treasured the most with her. He had put too much hope in every single day of those ten months, every hour and every second because he'd been so sure that at least he'd always have Ryan. That, at least, someone understood him now. He'd been wrong. Ryan was gone. And he was alone.

One of the things he'd convinced himself of was that he could exist, he could survive fine on his own, as long as he didn't have to look at any reminders of Ryan and the house -the pool house specifically, was a giant barrage of memories that couldn't be blocked out, so he left. It was as simple as that. Only it wasn't simple and he knew that, in the back of his mind, he knew people would be worried, but he couldn't care about that, he forced himself not to.

The second night on the beach was much more unpleasant. He wondered how those people on Survivor did it night after night. Clearly a person had to be insane to willingly subject themselves to this kind of torture. He struggled to find a comfortable position, shooing away sand crabs while he gazed up at the stars and wondered what Ryan was doing at that same moment. If he was worried... If he even cared...


	3. 3

3/6

The next day when Seth went by the motel a room was available. He paid in cash and gave the woman at the desk a bogus name. The room was plain. A chair and small table in the corner. A television that only worked half the time. A bed with a floral print comforter and threadbare sheets. His new home was a twelve by nine inch room in a seedy motel in town and he liked it; liked the freedom, at least.

The towel he used to dry off after a much needed shower was scratchy and thin. The face that looked back at him in the mirror as he shaved off three days worth of growth was red and blotchy. He'd been getting too much sun and he could just hear Summer's voice in his ear warning him about premature aging and skin damage from its rays. When his skin started to itch he decided he was allergic to the cheap soap he'd used to clean and made a mental note to buy something neutral when he went out. More pressing was the need for some type of antihistamine to prevent hives from forming over his body.

He threw on some clothes and grabbed the keys from on top of the television and was out the door. The streets were nearly empty save for some kids on bikes and a few joggers out for a run. He knew from his earlier travels that there was a drugstore three blocks away and headed out that way, grimacing as his clothes brushed his skin and made the itch worse. As he passed the boat supply store, he remembered that he needed some things and decided to stop by later.

He still hadn't fixed the boat. He hadn't done much of anything. Moping took up much of his time.

The store was quiet. A bored-looking woman flipped through a magazine at the register, looking up to smile at him as he entered. He smiled back and headed down the medical aisle. Box after box of antihistamine was flipped over and carefully read. After ten minutes he'd finally narrowed his selection down to two different brands when he felt something wing his shoulder. When he turned to find the culprit no one was there. Looking down at the floor, he saw a round yellow gum ball between his feet. A second later a blue one hit him on the shoulder.

"What the hell?" he said and turned around. A guy-obviously unconcerned about drawing attention to himself in a bright orange button-down barely done up and Hawaiian-print board shorts-sprang up from the candy aisle and came around to greet him.

"Remember me?" he asked, half of a chewed gum ball plumping out his cheek.

Seth stared at him, searching for a name. Finally it came to him. "Uh, Tyler, right?"

"Good memory," he replied and offered him a green gum ball. Seth declined.

"Like an elephant," Seth dead-panned before going back to reading the back of the antihistamine boxes.

Tyler took a box from his hand and pointed to the other one. "Get that one, this one'll put you to sleep," he said as he put the second box back on its proper shelf.

Seth looked from the box to Tyler. "'kay...thanks," he said slowly and started back down the aisle to pick up some soap. Checking the rest of the store for things he might need, Seth lost track of the other teen. He made his way to the register and paid.

The next stop he made was at the local supermarket. It was a small family run business -a rare sight to see. He'd had a craving for pudding since he'd arrived. There was nothing like pudding to drown his sorrows. The place hosted a wide variety of pudding. Plain. Chocolate. Vanilla. Strawberry, even. They were out of tapioca. Of course. Just his luck.

A flash of orange caught his eye as he exited the store, a few purchases in a brown paper bag under his arm. He looked to his left. Tyler was leaning against the building waiting for him, eating a pudding cup. Seth blinked, stared and then blinked again.

"Is that pudding?" Seth asked before he could stop himself.

Tyler straightened, reached into his own brown paper bag and produced another. "Yeah, you want some?"

Seth could do nothing but nod and accept the pudding.

In the light Tyler looked different. Honey skin and strong limbs and something that couldn't be pinned down with words. His eyes were smiling, they were a little blue and a little green and grey and when he moved into the sun they changed again like a mood ring. It reminded Seth of Megan Flask, a neighbour that he vaguely remembered from when his family lived in Berkeley.

"Thanks." Seth settled down beside him and opened the package, using the flimsy lid to scoop out the contents.

"What are you doing for the rest of the day?"

Seth swallowed his mouthful of pudding before speaking. "I was hoping to pick up some parts for the Summer Breeze."

"Summer Breeze? that's cute." Tyler chuckled, teasingly.

Seth flushed. "Yeah, it's named after my girlfriend."

"You have a girlfriend?" he asked, surprised.

"Probably not anymore," Seth answered, wounded.

"What'd you do?"

Seth didn't speak for a minute. He silently ate his pudding and contemplated making up a lie. In the end, the truth seemed easier. "I just took off and left her a note telling her not to worry." He resisted the urge to go into it, leaving out all the sordid details and Ryan's departure.

"Ouch," he laughed, shaking his head slowly.

Seth bobbed his head, licking the remaining pudding from the sides of the plastic. "Yeah, I know. Thanks for the sympathy by the way."

"You made your own bed," he pointed out.

"I guess so." Seth shrugged, sheepishly smiling. "Well, like I said: I've got to pick up those parts so I'd better get going. Thanks for the pudding."

Seth got to his feet and checked his watch. As easy as it was to sit with Tyler and talk over pudding, it was not going to make things go away. He was still on the run, hiding from everything and everyone. And fixing the boat was his guarantee for escape if someone did happen to find him.

"Sure you can handle that on your own?" he challenged, amused.

No, he was not sure. The last time he'd tried anything to do with repairs he'd wound up stapling his fingers together and had to be rushed to the hospital to have them separated. He still had the scars. "I think I can manage," he squeaked out, hoping to sound more confident than he felt.

Tyler took a step forward, his broad shoulders blocking out the sun and casting Seth in shadow. "Tell you what, come by the marina at about four-that's when I get off-and I'll give you a hand with it and then we can get a bite to eat. Sound good?"

He extended his hand and Seth accepted it. Seth was not a macho guy, he didn't understand the whole 'guy code' thing, what with all the handshakes and half-hug/handshake combos and he'd never had many friends, so he wasn't really up to date on how one attained a friend...but he felt like he'd just made one. And this time it was all on his own. It wasn't because his dad had brought home some stray kid from Chino and forced them to be friends. This time it was because Tyler _wanted_ to be his friend. And it felt good. "Yeah, sounds great, man. See you later."


	4. 4

It had only been three days. Honestly, he'd thought it would have been longer before he allowed himself to be homesick, before he yearned for his Mother's bad cooking and his Father's corny jokes. He missed the warmth of home. The petty fights between his parents. The politically incorrect and misogynist jokes his grandfather attempted to make.

The sunburn had peeled and turned into a tan that didn't suit him. His hair, forever unruly, had softened from the salt water and was lightened by the sun. The hives had gone away after he took a double dose of antihistamine. He felt okay, good.

Seth expected a black cloud to hang over his head all the time, but that wasn't how things were at all. It didn't seem right. Everything here was bright and beautiful. Gray clouds didn't dominate the sky and the air was never bitterly cold. Had there been miserable weather, it might have made it feel like what he was doing served a purpose. But everything was normal. Nothing had changed. It hadn't brought Ryan back and it wouldn't; not if he thought about it logically.

Seth spent the rest of the afternoon getting all the things he needed for the boat. When he checked his watch, he was surprised to find that it was almost four o'clock already. At the marina, he found the closest information desk.

"Hi, uh, is Tyler here?" he asked the clerk -a heavyset man chopping on a cigar.

"He's busy," the man grunted.

Seth scratched his neck, a nervous habit. "Oh, okay, no that's...that's cool. It's just...well, he said to come by at four and it's four now, so I figured that-"

"Tyler!" he hollered, cutting Seth off. Apparently it was easier to get Tyler than it was to listen to Seth babble. "Ty!"

"What?" came the muffled reply.

"There's some kid out here for you," the man replied gruffly, taking a puff off his Stogie.

Tyler materialized from the back room. Seth was happy to see a friendly face.

"Hey, Seth!" he said, jumping over the desk and landing a foot away from Seth. "I'm going now, Dad." He chucked his smock at the big man and clapped Seth on the back, leading him away.

"That was your Dad?" Seth asked, somewhat to himself.

"Yeah, he comes across as a mean son-of-a-bitch, but mostly that's just for show; he's a real teddy bear once you get to know him."

Seth looked back and waved bye. Tyler's father blew rings of smoke out of his mouth and grunted. Yeah, he looked really cuddly. Suddenly the image of Smokey the Bear popped into his head and he had to bite his cheek to stop himself from smiling.

Back at the Summer Breeze, it worked out that Seth knew shit about fixing a boat. Swallowing his pride, he agreed to let Tyler do all the manual labour while he passed him the tools. He'd never felt like such a girl in his life. Even so, the repairs didn't take too long and Seth felt useful in his own way.

It was just after six when Seth found himself following Tyler to his house for dinner. Tyler lived in a shack. There was no kind way to put it. Seth was almost afraid to step in, afraid he'd cut his hand and wind up contracting Tetanus. When was the last time he'd been to the doctor for shots anyway?

Reluctantly, he followed Tyler inside. He was surprised to find that it wasn't too bad, not a million dollar mansion but not a shanty in China either. It was charming, really.

"Hungry?" Tyler asked over his shoulder, shucking his stained work shirt and grabbing a clean one from a basket on the counter.

Seth rubbed his stomach, trying to quell the disruptive noises. "Starved."

"Great," he said and sifted through a drawer pulling out some take-out menus. "Pizza okay?"

"It's fine," Seth answered somewhat distracted. He picked up one of the coupons and laughed. "Hey, this is my mother's recipe!" He laughed to himself when Tyler didn't get the joke. There was nothing like his Mother's 'Home Cooking.'

Tyler phoned in their order while Seth took a seat on the futon against the dominate wall.

On the coffee table sat a bunch of comics. Seth sifted through them. Underneath was a dozen or so drawings. Comic book characters he'd never heard of. The drawing were good, detailed but not yet shaded.

"You like comics?" Tyler hung up the phone and set it back on its cradle. Stepping up to the sink, his picked up a bar of soap and began to lather up his greasy hands. Rivulets of dirty water passed through his fingers and drained into the metallic sink basin.

Seth realized he'd been staring and turned his attention back to the drawings in front of him. "Like them? Comic Con is pretty much the highlight of my year. I've never seen these though, are they Japanese?"

"Those?" He pointed to the drawings with a paper towel as he dried his hands and then discarded it into the trash bin. "No, those are all mine. Just something I do to kill time."

"They're really good," Seth said, looking through them again.

"Really?" he asked, sounding surprised.

"Yeah. You should pursue it; maybe you can be the next Stan Lee or Todd McFarlane or something, I dunno. "

When Seth looked up Tyler's cheeks were slightly pink. "Right. Even if I wanted to... My father hurt his back a couple years ago and my Mom died when I was just a kid... I need to stay close; help out. Keep the marina going."

Seth nodded. "Still, it's a shame to let all this talent go to waste."

Tyler sat down beside Seth, taking the drawings out of his hands. "You really think they're good?"

"Definitely."

Tyler smirked. "Thanks."

Settling back into the couch, Seth could feel Tyler's eyes on him. He felt his own face heat up.

When Tyler spoke his voice was smooth and even, the embarrassment and self-consciousness of a moment ago had vanished. "So why are you here, Seth?"

"You invited me, didn't you?"

He laughed, a light chuckle. "No, I mean why are you _here_ in this place. You said you were from Newport, right?"

"Oh. No, yeah. I just needed to be on my own for awhile. Figure some things out." Seth looked at his shoes instead of making eye contact.

"Is it because of the gay thing?"

Seth's head snapped up so fast, he heard a little popping sound in his neck. A wave of heat trickled down his spine. This could only end badly. Guys like Tyler-with their muscular builds and colour-changing eyes-were the same type that had beaten Seth on the playground in middle school and peed in his shoes in highschool. "What?! What _gay_ thing?"

Tyler's tone was still casual. "You know... You. Being gay. Is that what you needed to figure out?"

"I'm...not. I'm not gay." Or at least he hadn't been until Ryan came along and made him question everything.

"Okay," he said in a tone that let Seth know he was prepared to let the subject drop. Only he didn't, not really. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, I'm not."

The silence stretched.

Seth's eyes crinkled at the corners, he looked at Tyler in all seriousness. "You think I'm gay?"

He shrugged. "Do you think you're gay?"

Why was it that he was starting to feel like he was talking to a shrink? They always did that: answer questions with questions. Seth felt like he was under a microscope, each of his actions being studied and documented.

He scratched the back of his neck, more than a little nervous, and swallowed thickly. "I dunno. I mean, how do I know?"

"My guess is, if you're asking..."

Seth was nodding very slowly, unable to control it as if someone else was guiding his action. His mouth felt very dry and his ears were ringing. "Right. No...well, I didn't really think I was..." Seth took in a breath. A big breath. "Not before Ryan."

"Ryan?"

"He's my brother," Seth answered automatically. He'd gotten used to thinking about Ryan that way...or at least, he'd gotten used to thinking that was how he should think about Ryan. As a brother, nothing more.

Tyler held his hands out in front of him, a look of shock on his handsome face. "Whoa, somehow I didn't see that one coming."

Seth chuckled humourously. "He's not my real brother. Not that it matters one way or the other to him." Suddenly the corner of the coffee table was very interesting.

"And you like him?"

"I didn't think it was a gay thing until he left...I don't know, man. I thought...it doesn't really matter. It's just so hard." Seth peeled a chip of wood from the dented corner of the table before he realized what he'd done and then tried to fit it back into place, giving up when he caused a bigger mess and more splinters to fall onto the shag carpet.

"It's not hard, Seth." Seth looked up questioningly, but Tyler just continued. "I'd imagine pretending all the time would be harder." Tyler looked to Seth for confirmation. "Well, isn't it?" Seth reluctantly nodded. "As soon as you let go of the illusions of what you think it means, whatever bad notions you've had drilled in your head, then you can accept it and move on with your life."

"It's not that easy. It can't be." Seth leaned back, letting his weight fall into the soft cushions behind him. "Has anyone ever told you that you sound like a shrink?"

Tyler smiled crookedly. "I guess I've seen enough of them to start talking like one. The old man made me see one after mom died and I started getting nightmare," Tyler answered in response to Seth's silent question. He shook out his body and slapped Seth's knee. "Hey! You know what? We should get drunk!"

"We should?" Seth questioned, raising his eyebrows.

"Yep, nothing mends-or numbs-a broken heart quite like alcohol."

Pondering that logic over, Seth agreed, "I guess it couldn't hurt." He was just grateful for someone to talk to...and drink with, he supposed. What the hell, it couldn't hurt and even if it didn't help, at least he wouldn't have to think too hard.

* * *

Everything was going so well Seth hardly thought about Ryan anymore. The alcohol was a big help with that. Ryan was just some guy that he had once known. He didn't care about him anymore.

At all...

Okay, so that was a big fat lie, but it helped get him through the long nights. So maybe sometimes he thought about him while he was in bed alone...maybe he even fantasied a little. But, besides that, everything was going great.

Then, tragedy struck. Okay, so it was more an ill-timed mishap than anything. On his third week, Seth made an amateur mistake.

He called home.

His mother answered the phone.

"Seth?" she asked instead of hello, panic evident in her wavering voice. Even without seeing her face, he could tell that she hadn't been sleeping right. And he felt guilty. He'd been allowed to only think of himself. He could pretend that no one else mattered, but this was proof that he wasn't the only one hurting. His heart was beating very fast and breaking just a little more each time his mother said his name. He'd never meant to hurt her. Desperately, he wanted to forget about everything and hear his Mother tell him everything was going to be okay. So what if he was a Momma's boy? He sure as hell didn't care.

Seth was about to respond when he heard Ryan in the background over the mix of voices. Before he could stop himself, think logically, he hung up, fingers shaking. He counted on the phone booth to hold him up as he leaned against it.

There was no escaping it now, everything was about to be turned upside down...

* * *

Seth had learned two very important lessons in the past few weeks: 1) whiskey good, 2)thinking bad. Tyler had been instrumental in helping him figure out those two facts. They hung out most of the time when Tyler wasn't working. They didn't do much, just drank and talked shop --AKA talked about comics and Ryan. Anna had been the only person to truly understand his comic obsession until he met Tyler. And no one else knew about his secret crush. It felt nice to have someone to confide in that understood what he was going through.

Seth sorted through the mess of his clothes trying to find something clean to wear. He picked up a gray t-shirt and smelled it. It was just a little bit musky, but not too bad. It would have to do. He pulled the shirt on over his head and pulled on a pair of jeans. Reaching into his pocket, he realized his wallet was once again missing. He'd never been too careful with his things and being on his own without Rosa to find his misplaced items had taught him a whole new appreciation for their cleaning lady.

Looking under the bed, Seth didn't even look up when he heard footsteps and then the door creaking open. "I'll be there in a minute, just gotta grab my wallet."

Tyler was supposed to be meeting him and he had no reason to suspect it was anyone else. Until...

"Seth?" came a tentative voice.

Seth whirled around, narrowly missing a collision with the bedside table. "Ryan?!"

Seth stood, wallet in hand, and faced Ryan. He looked back at the messy bed, the tissues on the floor, the half bottle of whiskey Tyler had given him and slowly faced Ryan again.


	5. 5

5/6

* * *

Seth was an idiot and having Ryan a few feet away from him reminded him of that fact. Why did he call home again? It was a stupid mistake. Of course they would track him down. They probably had the phones tapped or something like that. Yeah, he could picture it now: a lot of fancy equipment, a dozen or so officers and a mountain of Kirsty Creme's... Or maybe, just one really good P.I. his father knew. That was probably closer to reality. 

"Uh, hi," Seth finally said after getting over his shock of seeing Ryan alive and well and in front of him. He tried to smile, though it didn't quite make it to his lips.

Ryan stepped closer. He was unreadable. "You okay?"

Seth could barely meet his eye. "Yeah, fine. You?"

Ryan dodged the question and fired back with one of his own. "Why'd you leave? Everyone's worried...your Mom, your Dad...Summer." He looked tired, weary.

Seth didn't fail to notice that he'd left himself out. Ryan seemed detached, cold. He tried not to seem angry, really he put a lot of energy and concentration into it...he just couldn't help himself. "So, that's it, huh? You came here to drag me back. Doing my parents one last favour?" he affirmed with dejection.

Ryan took a step closer. Seth backed away. "Seth, it's not like that."

Seth held up his hands. He'd been unprepared for the influx of feelings that seeing Ryan had ultimately drudged up. "Forget it, I didn't mean that. Look, I just..." He rubbed his forehead, sighed. "I had to get away," Seth said finally. He could feel his heart pounding hard in his chest, wondered if Ryan could see it.

Ryan shifted his weight. "Seth... I-I'm sorry."

"For what?" There was something strange in his voice that even Seth himself couldn't explain.

"I had to go," he answered, simply. Ryan struggled with the rest. "Theresa... It... The... She needed me."

Seth nodded slowly. "I know." And he did get that. He knew why Ryan had to go; that it was the right thing to do, but that didn't make the sting any less potent.

Ryan's eyes scanned the room, falling on the picture Tyler had drawn of Seth a week ago after they'd come in from sailing. He stared at it, his jaw tensing. "What's that?"

Seth's eyes darted across the room where Ryan's gaze was fixed. "That's me as a superhero," he answered, picking it up and thrusting it at Ryan proudly. "I look all buff and manly there -- clearly, it's an exact replica of how I look in real life only in cartoon form. Good, huh?"

Ryan studied the paper carefully. "You drew this?"

"No," he answered, hesitating, "A friend of mine did."

Ryan looked up, his eyes dark. "A friend? What friend?"

"Just this guy. Not that it matters to you," Seth answered bitterly remembering his anger. Taking the picture back, he set it down on the bed.

Ryan frowned. "I get that you're mad at me...that things are different now, but can't you at least come home?"

Ordinarily Seth was the one keeping his cool and Ryan was the one with the out-of-control temper, but somewhere between the long road to Chino and the white-capped coast, their roles had been reversed. "No, Ryan, you don't get it. And what home? You mean back to that house and that school where I was a total loser?" Seth's gestures were even wilder than normal, his hands spoke with a quick rhythm that was dizzying. "Yeah, okay, I'll get right on that. Maybe I'll even shave my chest and don a Speedo while I'm at it...a red one!" Even angry, Seth held a firm handshake with sarcasm.

"Seth."

Seth turned his back on Ryan. He couldn't stand the intensity of his eyes any longer. "I'm not going back. I like it here."

"You like it here?" Ryan asked incredulously.

"Seth, man, you ready?"

Both Ryan and Seth looked at the door where a tall boy with jet black hair and blue-green eyes was smiling at both of them. Tyler stood brandishing sparklers and firecrackers under his arms, seemingly oblivious to the tension.

"Yeah, I'm ready," Seth said, picking up his jacket from the chair. "Tyler, this is Ryan."

"Oh, hey, man. Heard a lot about you. You coming with?" Tyler juggled the firecrackers and held his hand out to Ryan. Ryan gripped his hand tight and they shook.

"Firecrackers on the beach," Seth explained. "You know, for the fourth of July?"

Ryan nodded, though he was still staring at Seth with a confused look on his face. "Right. Sure."

Seth bolted past both of them, not caring if anyone remembered to lock the door. He knew their talk wasn't over and by the end of the night Ryan was either going to convince him to come home or knock him out and drag him there.

* * *

Down on the beach there were fire pits blazing and people all around. It was easy to get lost in the crowd. The first thing Seth did was grab a beer from the closest bucket of ice. Twisting off the cap with more effort than he would admit, he took a large swallow and stared out at the ocean where a small fireworks display was being tested. Controlled explosions tinted the night sky red. The air smelled of sulfur and the sea. Seth seated himself down in the cold sand, not knowing or caring where Tyler or Ryan had gotten to. 

He didn't have time to conjure up any crazy ideas of Ryan deciding the whole trip was a mistake and taking his misguided sympathy somewhere else because a minute after Seth sat down, he found himself sandwiched between Ryan and Tyler. They all made a very funny picture, or so Seth imagined.

They were opposites, contradictions. The blonde with good looks, blue eyes and brooding shoulders to his right, the black-mopped, often funny, chameleon-eyed almost stranger to his left. They sat in a row, crowded together like peas in a very peculiar pod. And it was funny how Tyler had told him more about himself in three weeks than Ryan had in ten months and he still leaned closer to Ryan; desired to be nearer still, breathing the same air, sharing the same artificial stars as they skyrocketed into the atmosphere and exploded into a million broken pieces.

Ryan was very much like those burnt, broken pieces and the ocean they fell into after fizzling out: unstable, rough and vast. There was so much to Ryan that he would never get to know, so much that Seth could never see or understand and yet just being able to know Ryan, to touch, to feel a small portion of him, to be in his life, was enough; enough to understand how the pieces fit in the summit of the waves. There was a terrible silence about waves, they crept up undetected with a grace only magnified by their hard-hitting impact...just like Ryan.

The silence stretched until Seth couldn't take it anymore and finally gave in to the need to speak. Mostly, he talked to Tyler who in turn tried to engage Ryan into their conversations, but Ryan watched their exchange with sceptics eyes. And when Tyler touched Seth freely as he told a story Ryan didn't do anything to hide his disapproval, though Tyler didn't seem to notice.

When all the fireworks had been set off and most of the people on the beach started to turn into the night, Tyler stood and pulled Seth up with him. Suffice it to say, the evening had not gone as planned. It had been a very tense, very jumbled, evening.

"So... I guess you're going back soon, then?" Tyler asked, having run out of safe topics.

Seth eyed Ryan before answering. "No," he said, feeling his palms begin to sweat, "I'm staying here."

Ryan spoke up, "no, you're not. We're leaving tomorrow."

"Actually, _Ryan's_ leaving tomorrow and _I'm_ staying." Seth swallowed, his mouth felt sticky and his throat sore.

Tyler looked between them, his discomfort evident. "Hey, listen, I gotta go... I work early tomorrow." He stuck out his hand and offered it to Ryan. "It was nice meeting you."

Ryan's face was impassive. He did not take Tyler's hand.

Tyler shrugged.

Seth panicked.

"Why don't you just stick around for a little while? you can come back to the hotel with us if you want." Seth asked hopefully. The last thing he wanted to do was spend the night caged up in a room with Ryan who had become more moody as the night progressed.

Before Tyler had given his answer, Ryan grabbed Seth's upper arm, pulling him aside.

Seth smiled at Tyler as he was being dragged a little ways down the beach. "Be back in a minute," he called over his shoulder.

"What?!" he snapped when they were out of earshot.

"What's going on with the two of you?" Ryan's eyes were intense...and hurt?

"What'dya mean? We're just friends."

Ryan licked his lips and Seth hated that it turned him on. This was exactly the kind of thoughts that had driven him away in the first place. "Seth, he's a...a..."

"What? He's a what?" Ryan remained silent. Seth's eyes narrowed. "Say it!"

Ryan looked past Seth, his eyes falling on Tyler who was fiddling with the zipper on his jacket and shifting his weight.

"He's a fuckin' fag, Seth!"

It felt like he'd been slapped. Seth took a step back.

Seth was the same. This was not the same Ryan. Not the Ryan that would take punches from half the water polo team to protect him. This Ryan looked like he wanted to throw a few punches of his own. Was this how Ryan had been in Chino? Was this Ryan capable of hurting Seth? This Ryan seemed dangerous and Seth was scared. He'd never been afraid of Ryan before, not even after the whole Oliver debacle, but now... It was a hard pill to swallow. He choked on it.

He gathered up the courage he knew he was going to need and put everything on the line. "Yeah, well, so am I." Seth ripped his arm out of Ryan's grasp and braced himself.

Ryan's face was unreadable. A solid mask. "No, you're not. You're...just confused."

He wished that was the truth. "Right, _I'm_ confused."

"What does that mean?" Ryan barked, crowding him.

Seth backed up even more, keeping his eyes hidden. "Nothing." It was hard to speak past the lump in his throat. It was even harder to keep his voice steady. "I'll pack and we'll go tomorrow. No fuss." He did look up then and Ryan's eyes were so blue against the moon that even if Seth wanted to hate him, he couldn't. It wasn't his fault Seth was like this. "Happy?"

Seth didn't wait for a reply. He stormed down the beach and headed back toward Tyler.

* * *

Much later, after Seth had exchanged all the necessary information with Tyler to keep in touch--they were going to keep exchanging ideas, with Tyler's drawings and Seth's winning dialogue, they just might create a comic that had the potential to be published--he made his way up the street toward the hotel. The door to the small laundry room-housing a payphone and small television set-was askew. Seth could see Ryan through the gap. A chair with Ryan in it was pressed against a wall beside the phone and Ryan's feet were on the table opposite. There was a beer nestled between his thighs and the receiver was in his left hand. He spoke into it and closed his eyes. 

Seth listened in, straining to hear and being rewarded by bits and pieces of Ryan's conversation. "Yeah, I found him." There was a long pause. "Yeah, everything's fine... Yeah, he seems okay." Ryan sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palms. "We'll head back tomorrow. See you then."

Ryan hung up.

Seth slipped away. He went back to his room. It was a long time before he heard the sound of Ryan's boots trudging down the hall and then standing outside the door. Slipping into bed, Seth turned off the lamp and pretended to be asleep.

Ryan had trouble with the lock and seemed to stumble when he finally crossed the threshold.

Seth sensed Ryan next to him more than saw him and waited for something to happen. He waited and waited. Nothing happened. Ryan just stood over the bed watching him for the longest time until he finally swiped a pillow and made the floor his bed.

* * *

Ryan had promised Seth earlier that summer that they could take the boat out, go sailing like they had the first time Sandy brought Ryan home. Ryan had kept his promise. It wasn't quite right. Sure they were on the boat together, but they were sailing back to Newport, back to all the problems Seth had run away from. He'd imagined their reunion a thousand different ways. But nothing like this; not at his favourite time of the day when the sky was big and cloudless, the sun just a little too bright and hot on his back and Ryan looking at him like he was less than sea crud. 

They'd left later than they'd planned, mostly because Seth didn't want to wake up Ryan while he looked so peaceful and Seth was pretty sure Ryan had been drunk when he came in the night before. Waking up with a hangover was only going to make things more strained. Seth didn't want to deal with an irritable Ryan. And plus, it gave Seth a chance to watch Ryan sleep one last time before he decided never to speak to him again. After his revelation last night, he was fairly sure Ryan was going to keep as far from Seth as possible.

Now, on the boat alone, with nothing but silence to occupy them, things seemed more dire than ever.

It was Ryan that broke the silence. "Why are you so angry?" he asked.

"As if you didn't know," Seth scoffed, his eyes to the sky. He'd learned that the eye roll was a very effective way to get a point across. Of course, he'd learned that from Summer so he wasn't so sure it applied so much to Ryan. "I know what you think about me. Tell me the truth, you hate me don't you?!"

It didn't take a genius to figure out that Ryan was starting to get pissed off. The vein in his neck was beginning to throb. "You want the truth?" His eyes were raw with emotion and so open, Seth was sure Ryan was about to do something so drastic he wouldn't live to tell about it. Instead of leaping up and pummelling him to death, Ryan caught himself and closed himself off once again. The no-nonsense Ryan was back.

Seth managed to squeak out a yes.

Ryan scooted forward just a little. "I think you're being a spoiled little brat because you couldn't have what you wanted and you _wanted_ me to come after you. You _want_ me to keep apologizing for leaving, but I'm not going to. I don't hate you and I don't care if you're gay," Ryan finished and looked down at his shoes.

Seth hated that he felt anger _and_ relief at Ryan's words. Why couldn't he just pick one emotion? He knew he was selfish and he knew he could never have Ryan the way he wanted, but he didn't want it thrown in his face. Ryan didn't hate him and that outweighed everything.

Seth was really going to make an effort not to be spoiled and selfish...but, dammit, really, why couldn't he have Ryan? He'd been so sure there was something there. It hadn't just been a one-sided thing.

The silence grew uncomfortable.

He couldn't hold his tongue any longer. "I suppose you think everything can go back to normal, that we can just pretend none of this happened? Well, we can't. You're still gone and it doesn't matter how I feel."

Ryan shook his head, refusing to speak.

Seth couldn't take it. Everything was building inside him, threatening to spill over. Why wouldn't Ryan just admit that he felt it, too? That there was something real between them, something that wasn't just friendly and certainly not brotherly. And if Theresa wasn't in the way they'd be free to have mad monkey-love right now on the open water. Seth had never known Ryan to be dishonest...until now. He felt sick and it wasn't from the sea. "You know what, I'd rather swim back than be on the same boat with you."

Ryan looked up, alarmed. "What?"

Seth attempted to dive into the ocean, but Ryan grabbed his shirt at the last moment. Seth swayed, getting off balance and tumbling into the water, slicing his hand on the way. A trace amount of blood slicked the deck. Seth groaned in the water.


	6. 6

****6/6

* * *

Ryan's chest rose and fell. Rose and fell. His breath coming out in short, sporadic bouts.

Seth refused to look at him. His own breathing was so heavy there was a wheezing noise coming from his chest. It reminded him of the first time he'd had sex with Summer. Only worse. His hand stung from the salt water in his open wound and he had a stitch in his side and he was pretty sure he'd swallowed more seawater than what was deemed safe. At least if he died from secondary drowning he wouldn't have to talk things through with Ryan.

Seth looked out at the water, praying this was all some sort of bad dream that he was about to wake up from. The waves were bigger now, the colour of slate except for their white foaming caps. The powerful wind jostled the boat, pushing it along like a tin can on a city street. Over the bumps, the horizon faded in and out as the sky settled on orange. The gulls, the salty smell, the crisp air - he had, for a moment, the irritating feeling of hating it all and had to remind himself that he loved the water and his boat. What he didn't love right now was the openness of it all, the feeling of being completely exposed and flanked by the need to get away from Ryan and having no way to do so.

Seth, buried in his own dejection and misery, was not aware of the change in Ryan. He hadn't taken note that his breathing had evened or that his eyes were darkening. Had he, he might have been more prepared for when Ryan pounced, obviously regaining some strength. The wind went out of his lungs and he struggled to reclaim it as Ryan's heavy weight pressed down on him.

Ryan pinned Seth's arms over his head and sat on his chest, his legs on either side of Seth's ribs. "Just fucking listen to me for one second!"

Seth fought him, wresting under him with every last ounce of adrenaline he had in him. "Why, so you can go tell me all about you and Theresa?" he shouted, anger glistening off of his wet skin. He didn't want to act like a brat, but there was something greater pulling at him, making him go on no matter how childish he sounded. "Or about your new _perfect_ little family and how I'm not a part of it?" His voice cracked and his stomach lurched. He was either going to have to throw up and choke or just give in. The pounding in his ears and an intense headache, like a million mini-explosions firing through his brain, told him the latter was his best option. "How I'm never going to be a part of it..." he finished, weakened. He stopped struggling, submitted. It wasn't until Ryan's thumb touched his cheek that he realized he was crying. He felt his face heat up and he looked away, embarrassed.

Ryan didn't force him to look at him. Ryan didn't do or say anything for a long time, in fact.

Curiosity getting the best of him, Seth finally turned back to look at Ryan. In the wan light, Ryan's eyes were gray and conflicted, his face bisected by the setting sun casting half of it in shadow. He was staring out at the ocean, seemingly unaware of Seth underneath him still battling for a proper breath. Seth turned away again. He flexed his hand and watched a slow trickle of blood ooze up between his knuckles and then run off the back of it.

The time that passed felt like hours, but was probably only minutes. Ryan cleared his throat before he spoke.

"She... _We,_" he corrected in a voice that sounded distant, "lost the baby." Ryan cleared his throat again and Seth felt it almost shatter him. "The baby's gone, Seth. Just...gone."

That rocked him. His eyes immediately turned to Ryan, looking for answers. "What?! How?"

And then he saw it in Ryan's eyes. The hurt. The betrayal. All caused by him. A spasm of realization struck him. He'd left Ryan alone when he needed him the most. Let him deal with the grief he felt because he was too damn caught up with how things were affecting himself and no one else. Why did he always have to be so fucking selfish?

Ryan eased the pressure on Seth, but just a little. "It was an accident. She fell." Ryan voice was strained. It sounded detached and very far away.

"Ryan, man," Seth said, trying to pull him back. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Not everything is about you, Seth!" Ryan's eyes hardened, his grip tightened. "You weren't there and then I came to get you... I tried to tell you and every time I tried..." Ryan shook his head. "Every time I tried, you didn't want to hear it."

Seth winced. Ryan noticed and relaxed his hands. "I'm sorry, I know I was an ass. I just...I can't believe..." A thought donned on him. "You've been at the house?"

Ryan nodded.

Seth's eyebrows raised at that revelation. "For how long?"

"Two weeks."

His heart sunk to the pit of his stomach. For two weeks, at least, Ryan had been in the throngs of grief and borderline agony while Seth hung out at the beach getting drunk and being stupid. "I'm sorry," Seth said, desperate for forgiveness. "I'm so so sorry."

"It's not your fault," Ryan said, tired.

Seth cautiously pulled his arm out from under Ryan and placed it on his back. "I'm sorry, Ryan. I really am. For everything."

Ryan nodded and continued to watch the water as they bobbed along.

What felt like a long time passed before Seth spoke again. When he did it was full of regret and self-loathing. "I didn't want to have these feelings for you...I just couldn't help it."

They both sighed, at the same time exchanging a look.

"I just...I thought you felt it, too. And then when you left..." Seth paused, collecting his thoughts. In the interim, Ryan's grip had relaxed.

"You were right. What you said... I _was_ a brat," Seth said, smiling nervously, "but you really can't blame me. Blame my Mom, she's the one that always pampered me. Yep, Dad always used to say she spoiled me and that I was going to turn out all selfish. But, I mean, come on, I'm not that selfish, am I? I'm not as bad as-"

"Seth," Ryan said, cutting him off, his voice patient.

Seth ignored him. "Dude, I'll so get over it. I just didn't know what to do. We don't even have to talk about it anymore, really. I'll just-"

"_Seth_."

Seth failed to notice Ryan's heightened tone, or that he'd spoke at all, for that matter. "No, seriously. Everything will just go back to normal and I'll admire you from afar until it just fizzles out or I meet someone else or-"

"_Seth_!"

"Don't even worry about it, man. 'Cause honestly, I think-"

Ryan pressed their lips together silencing Seth. It took a second for Seth to actually process what was happening. Ryan's lips were on his. Ryan's tongue was seeking entrance into his mouth. Ryan was kissing him!

And before Seth could really process it all, Ryan pulled back. "I did."

Seth blinked rapidly. "You did what?" he asked, still stunned.

Ryan's answered was almost shy; it was the most exposed Seth had ever seen him. "I felt it, too."

Seth couldn't push down the flutter of hope that started in his stomach. "Do you...I mean, do you still?"

Ryan nodded slowly, the wind picking up his hair and dropping it gently against his forehead. "I didn't know how you felt... I thought maybe I was imagining things, wishful thinking or something. I don't exactly have a lot of experience with _this _sort of thing."

"That makes two of us. Ah, finally something we're both idiots at. That's surprisingly reassuring, actually." Ryan's body relaxed, instead of holding Seth down he was now almost draped over him. Ryan's temple pressed against his own. His skin was warm and it felt nice being close like this, like he'd always imagined it would. If he was sleeping and this was a dream, he decided that now he never wanted to wake up. "God, Ryan."

It would be difficult to describe to anyone else how easily they forgave each other. Most people might have held lengthy grudges or harboured guilt, but that wasn't the type of relationship Ryan and Seth had. They didn't need to mention it. They didn't need a thousand different takes to admit they were sorry. It was more of an acknowledgement that they had both played some part of whatever wrong that had been visited upon the other and that it was over and done with.

Seth felt his nerves prickling again. "What about Theresa?"

Ryan didn't even bother to move, perhaps too drained physically and emotionally to even be able to. "Your parents bought her a ticket to Atlanta. There was no reason for her to stay."

The loss of a life--Ryan's baby's life-was devastating, and Seth wasn't trying to downplay it, but he could see that Ryan was going to be okay; that he'd probably spent the last two weeks getting to this point, of being okay. And, although Seth knew he was an asshole for being glad that Theresa was gone, he wasn't going to apologize for it. They were owed this time together...or, at least Ryan was. Seth had been a jerk and he was sure it was going to take some time for Ryan to fully trust him again, but he had confidence that things just might work out. "What about you? Are you staying?"

"I don't have anywhere else to go," Ryan said, teasing.

"Oh, I get it, so I'm, like, the consolation prize?" The transition from anger, to hurt, to humour was not as strange as he would have thought. It didn't mean everything was back to normal, but it did mean that Ryan forgave him; that Ryan understood.

"Basically," Ryan answered, lifting his head. There was a hint of a smile in his eyes. "You do realize Summer is going to kill you right?"

Ryan was making jokes? Seth smiled. Things were going to be okay, now, he was sure of it.

Telling Summer was not going to be easy, but at least he had backup for when he told her the truth and he was face to face with a Rage Blackout. "I know. Believe me, I know. You don't by chance know Karate, do you?"

* * *

end.


End file.
